


don't move the moon for me

by xivilaii



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Adult Content, Alien Biology, Confessions, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Kissing, Lesbian Sex, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Tension, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vetra's Smitten, Xenophilia, and so's Sara, authority kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 17:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10769232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivilaii/pseuds/xivilaii
Summary: 'Love was a terrible thing– limerence was worse.Infatuation; a lack of will, of thought, of decision. Just– this intense, burning want, clawing its way up her chest and into her lungs, and setting her blood aflame.'in which vetra is smitten, and sara needs to feel safe.





	don't move the moon for me

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone x  
> this is pretty much just a little smutfic, bc I'm a sinner. there's fluff in this one though !  
> vetra is ultimately my favourite me:a character, and f!vetryder is my weakness, so I thought I'd make a contribution !!  
> also, you guys are the best; i've gotten really incredible feedback from this fandom so far, y'all are easily the most accepting and kindest people i've ever written for x 
> 
> with that being said, please enjoy!

Love was a terrible thing– limerence was worse.  
  
_Infatuation_ ; a lack of will, of thought, of decision. Just – this intense, burning _want_ , clawing its way up her chest and into her lungs, and setting her blood aflame. Her eyes, her hands, the way she looked at her, the way her skin flushed and her voice shook, it was all too delicious, too perfect. It was beautiful. Sara was everything she wanted, everything she could ever let herself wish for, and Vetra thought that, perhaps, she had made someone, somewhere, very happy. How else could she deserve this, deserve the _Pathfinder_ ?  
  
She didn’t, she knew, but that wouldn’t stop her. She couldn’t let it, not when Sara was giving her that look, pacing back and forth across her quarters. Spirits, she was _beautiful_ , hair all mussed and eyes burning.         
  
“Someone’s smuggling supplies off the Nexus? _How_ ?”  
  
Vetra shrugged, and stretched back. It was a serious issue, sure, but it’d be resolved – Sara, however, seemed pretty riled up. “Exile sympathisers, probably. We’ve tracked the missing stocks to Kadara.”  
  
“Unsurprising. Any leads so far?”  
  
The turian shook her head. “None yet. They seem to– _disappear_ , planetside. Either someone’s interfering with docking protocol, or using a scrambler to evade scans.”  
  
Ryder made a frustrated noise, and ran a hand through her hair. She was unkempt; it was a little unfamiliar, but it looked good on her– _awfully good_ . Vetra wanted to rub the tenseness from her posture, run her talons through that dark hair, up those thighs–  
  
_Cut that thoughts, Nyx. Not the time_ .  
  
She and Sara had a… _thing_ . It didn’t qualify as official, not even nearly, but they’d shared a moment on Kadara, after flirting for _months_ – the crew weren’t blind, they could see what was going on. It seemed the only ones oblivious had been Vetra and Ryder, and even the Pathfinder had proven herself not so in the dark when she’d admitted to the turian that her feelings for her surpassed platonic. And they’d kissed, and though it had been chaste, it had lingered, soft and long and warm and encompassing, and now Vetra couldn’t look at her lips without thinking about how they felt, how they _tasted_ , and how much she’d like to experience that again.       
  
It had proved bothersome, and she was pretty sure Lexi had noticed.  
  
“Well,” said Sara, throwing her hands up in the air, “that’s not very _fucking_ ideal. You’re telling me there’s _nothing_ we can track, no energy signatures, no eye-witness accounts, nothing?”  
  
“Reyes may have something, but otherwise, it’s blank.”  
  
Ryder swore, and struck the wall with her fist. Vetra started, and her mandibles fluttered– was Sara… _okay_ ? Frustration was one thing, but this seemed to transcend that; yeah, there was definitely something deeper there. She stood from where she’d been stretched out on her couch, and took a few cautionary steps towards her– giving Sara time to pull away if she so chose– and held her arms out. The Pathfinder expelled a deep breath, and in a flash, wrapped her arms tight around Vetra’s waist and buried her face into her chest, the top of her head just barely brushing her collarbones. It took a moment for the turian to reciprocate, always taken aback how _soft_ she was, but when it had passed, she snaked an arm around her shoulders, and set her other hand at the nape of her neck.  
  
There was something unspoken between them, and an all-encompassing warmth– comfortable, familiar. This was easy, this _closeness_ . This… _safety_ .  
  
That struck Vetra, and she wasn’t quite certain why– safe. Sara felt safe.     
  
She didn’t know the last time she’d felt safe.  
  
“What’s eatin’ at you, Ryder?” asked Vetra, pulling back to gaze at her from an arm’s length. Sara shifted beneath her scrutiny. “Come on, if there’s something–”  
  
“Nothing’s wrong. I mean– something _is_ wrong, but not you,” said the Pathfinder, a little too quickly. Her hand lifted to trace her mandible, and the gesture struck her as oddly affectionate. When she spoke next, her voice was softer. “Never you.”    
  
The turian could feel something deep within her warm at the words, and she clasped the hand at her face in her own– Sara was so _small_ , too little for the weight she carried upon her back. If Vetra could take even just a _bit_ of it, she would– Spirits knew she would. But the Pathfinder seemed determined to carry the burden alone; always had. It almost stung.  
  
“Then…?”  
  
Sara nodded to herself, almost imperceptibly. A decision made, apparently. “It’s just– a lot. All of this, I mean.”  
  
Vetra tilted her head. She knew exactly what she meant; what she felt, even. Sometimes, everything just felt too much. “You’re not in this alone, y’know? You don’t have to carry this all by yourself.”  
  
Ryder was silent for a long moment, simply– _watching_ . Eyes searching her own, hands twitching where they rested at her face, throat bobbing. Her skin was so thin, so translucent Vetra could see the veins and muscles beneath, so fragile that it tore like paper and bruised black and blue and purple and red. There was always an _urge_ to drag her talons– or her _teeth_ ; _Spirits_ – down the side of her neck, just gentle enough– it made her shudder. She hoped she hadn’t noticed. Or… maybe she hoped she _had_ . It was confusing, this dancing around one another, never really knowing what to consider each other.  
  
And then, suddenly, there was a mouth against her own, and Sara’s arms snaked up to wrap around Vetra’s neck. The turian stumbled back and down, onto the couch by ‘ _accident_ ’, and lifted to embrace Ryder tightly, pressing her as close against her on her lap as their anatomy would allow. It was odd– they were so, so different, and yet the contours of her body seemed to melt into Vetra’s plates, her lips pressed up against the flat surface of her own. Humans did that– puckering thing. She couldn’t quite mimic it, but she _could_ match the rhythm of Sara’s tongue against her own, hot and desperate and unfamiliar in the best possible way.  
  
She was alien, and she was intoxicating, and there was something about those eyes– dark, hungry, and _hot_ – that unravelled her, warded away any sense with a broom. Her hands ran up Vetra’s chest, and her lips moved from her mouth to trail down her throat, nipping at the softer, unarmored flesh there. The turian shivered, and fisted a hand in Sara’s hair, unbound and wild.  
  
Something in her head was yelling ‘ _STOP_ ’, and although Vetra elected to ignore it, she did reach up to pull her back for a moment, to look into her eyes and press their foreheads together. Ryder heaved in a shaky breath, and closed her eyes.  
  
“I need to know you’re okay, Sara.”  
  
They snapped open, and the _look_ in them warmed her to the core. There was a sadness– an anger– but beneath that, and intertwined, was a longing, a want, a _need_ . And, if Vetra looked closely, a _love_ .      
  
She traced the side of her face with a gentle touch. “I am. I will be. I just– God, Vetra, I _need_ this. I need _you_ .”  
  
She was a smuggler– a glorified criminal, really– and Sara was the Pathfinder, a beaming icon whose example led the Nexus _and_ the Initiative, despite whatever the fuck Tann said. Vetra truly had no clue what she’d done to be worthy, what she’d done to deserve this, but Spirits, she’d never give it up for _anything_ .  
  
There was nothing, truly, to be said to that, so instead, she surged forward to capture Ryder’s bottom lip between her teeth, careful not to break the skin. She let out a breathy, wanton noise, and canted her lips forwards, against Vetra’s own. Humans were more exposed– more vulnerable– and she was protected by plates, but it still pulled from her a low, rumbling groan, subharmonics dipping lower than she had intended them to. She trailed her palms up her thighs and behind, to grasp the malleable flesh there– apparently, she’d done the right thing, as Sara made another noise, this one higher; _needier_ .  
  
The human squirmed atop her, dragging her fingers through Vetra’s cowl, running her nails across the thinner, unarmored skin underneath– it made the turian’s stomach flip, a deep heat finding her core when Sara groaned as she ground down on one of her hip ridges. Her hands withdrew from where they kneaded her ass, and slid underneath her shirt, talons dragging against her soft, caramel skin. She met the fabric of her bra and squeezed, relishing in the way Sara quivered above her– Spirits above, Vetra was going to lose her _mind_ .  
  
Of course, she’d had it in for Ryder since day one. There was something about how the Pathfinder commanded respect, yet inspired love and admiration, that really _got_ her. And that confident, swaying stride, that _smile_ , the way she spat her grievances out like a bad taste but never revealed too much, nor too little. Sure, she was an alien, but if Vetra was honest, that had never mattered, not to her. There were things she’d been thinking of since day one, like how those narrow fingers and sharp nails could really get _right into_ the divots between her plates.  
  
“Vetra,” breathed Sara, pitching forwards to capture her mouth, one hand at her cowl and the other running down her abdomen, and straying very close to some dangerous areas. Her plates had already begun to shift, and there weren’t even clothes off yet– Spirits, this woman did things to her. “Vetra I– fuck, _oh_ – I need–”  
  
The turian moved her attentions to Sara’s throat, nipping just hard enough at the soft, thin flesh to illicit a long, heavy moan, cutting off her words. The Pathfinder’s hips canted forwards, and her nails dug into the space beneath her cowl, drawing from Vetra a rumbling groan. She’d never been with a human– her sexual experience had been limited mostly to turians, in the past, and Spirits, she was _really_ questioning herself. This was _unreal_ .  
  
Or perhaps it was just Sara.  
  
“Ah– _fuck_ ,” she hissed, subharmonics lower than they had– if her memory served– ever been. She wondered if she’d be as soft inside as she was out. “ _Babe_ .”  
  
“ _Mm_ , keep talking,” said Sara, the command seeping through her words. Vetra could feel her twitching, fidgeting in an effort to keep her hips from rolling to and fro, and rumbled against her chest. “A-ah, _fuck_ , Vetra–”    
  
“Was that an order, _Pathfinder_ ?”  
  
She made a pitched, shaky noise, and ground down against Vetra’s thigh– well, she liked _that_ . Maybe titles were a thing? Or… defiance, perhaps?  
  
_Very_ interesting.  
  
Sara nipped her mandible, and moved her lips to press against her mouth, tongue snaking out to seek her own. Turians’ weren’t as flexible, but Vetra’s seemed to do the job– and she’d make sure it’d do the _other_ job she had in mind, too. In truth, oral sex was a bit of a phenomenon in turian mating; rarely explored, due to some– uh– _anatomical setbacks_ , but she’d watched enough human porn to know that it felt good, and that she wanted to see Sara squirm beneath her like that, entirely at her mercy.  
  
The Pathfinder drew back, and lifted her shirt over her head, baring the smooth expanse of her torso, naked save her Initiative issue bra. Vetra’s mandibles fluttered unbidden as she raised a hand to trail up, between her ribs, and then around, to snake down her spine– the way she shuddered, full bodied and desperate, was _delicious_ . Before Sara could reclaim her seat atop the turian’s lap, Vetra stood, and– with little effort at all, truly– hoisted her up, so that her legs could wrap around her waist, supported by the angular flare of her hips. Ryder squeaked, surprised, and locked her ankles behind the turian’s back, clothed breasts pressing up against the plates of Vetra’s chest.  
  
“ _Ass_ .”  
  
A wink. “You love it.”                      
      
Vetra made her slow way to the bed, perfectly content to take her time mouthing a trail down Sara’s throat before setting her down and clambering atop her, gripping the thin material covering her chest and _tearing_ , before she could protest. It gave easily, and fell off her, bearing her plump bust to her attentions – breasts were unfamiliar to her, and she’d only seen them in the dirty vids she’d managed to find. She knew what to do well enough, though, and gripped one in her hand and gently kneaded, rolling the pert tip in between her talons. It had the desired effect, making Sara roll her hips and arch her back, small fingers trying to work the buckles of Vetra’s undersuit, to no avail.  
  
She leant down to press a kiss to Ryder’s lips, then a second, then a third, and trailed south, to mouth at her jaw and then her collarbone, digging her teeth in hard enough to create a mark, but not enough to draw blood. Sara pressed a firm, deceptively strong hand to her chest and pushed back, until Vetra was seated above her, and yanked at one of the buckles.  
  
“ _Off._ ”  
  
A very clear order. The command in her voice sent a spike of heat down into Vetra’s core, and the heavy burn of her gaze as she made a show of unbuckling her chestpiece nearly made her want to rush– _nearly_ . There remained a quiet urgency– a _need_ – but she took her time, pressed Sara’s hands to her plates and let them explore while she peeled the leather down to her hips, leaning back down to run her teeth across the human’s bottom lip when she’d finished, elbows braced on either side of Ryder’s head. Vetra could feel their breath mingling, hot and desperate, and _Spirits_ , it was doing something to her.     
  
She snuck a hand beneath the waistband of Sara’s trousers, trailing the tip of a talon down the jut of her hipbone, and then, in one, fluid movement, dragged them down to her knees, where the woman beneath her kicked them off herself. The expanse of Sara’s thighs was paler than her stomach and arms, and looked softer, somehow– _smoother_ . Her skin was a phenomenon to Vetra; she didn’t know how humans _survived_ , with such little natural protection. She’d ask her, one day.  
  
Mouthing a trail down her abdomen, Vetra shuffled back, until her face was level with her thighs– they were thicker than hers, and more malleable; strong, though. Sara’s legs had spread of their own accord, but the turian nudged them further apart by the knees, dragging her teeth up the inside of her thigh. The Pathfinder cried out, rolling her hips and making an attempt at pressing her thighs together, barred by Vetra’s hands holding them open while she continued to give the apparently sensitive skin attention. The sounds Sara was making were positively delicious, ringing through her empty quarters and– likely– down the hall. Vetra didn’t care; that just meant people would know _who_ she’d been with, when they saw the teeth marks dotting her throat and jaw.  
  
Sara tried to grind her hips down, but the firm hands holding her legs and hips in place prevented her, so instead, they simply stuttered while she whined, low and heavy and desperate. Vetra could smell her arousal, could see it through the thin fabric of her underwear– they’d be easy to tear, too, but she decided to spare them. Her talons hooked into the elastic and pulled down to her calves– letting Ryder shimmy them off entirely– and surged forward once again, nipping at her thigh none too gently before finally moving her attentions to the human’s core, dragging her tongue flat through the folds experimentally.  
  
The noise Sara made was _sin_ , and Vetra loved it. Distantly, she hoped Drack wasn’t in the galley– if that was the case, the poor old bastard would be hearing everything. But when the woman beneath her dug her fingers hard into Vetra’s cowl, she decided that she didn’t entirely care– Spirits, _fuck_ , that felt good. And so did seeing Sara squirming desperately beneath her, face turned towards the heavens and mouthing a string of curses that the translators didn’t quite pick up, rolling her hips against Vetra’s mouth.  
  
She ran her tongue up her slit again– revelling in the wrecked groan it pulled from the Pathfinder– and found her clit, pressing her mouth against it, careful not to catch it with her teeth. Sara’s hips stuttered against her, and her fingers dug in a little harder, tearing an unbidden, rumbling moan from Vetra’s chest.  
  
Turian tongues couldn’t move like human tongues, but Sara seemed to be enjoying herself regardless, if the whines– steadily growing in volume– were any indication. Vetra could feel the arousal leaking from her– thicker than a turian’s, and more scented; interesting. She dipped down to capture some, more out of curiosity than arousal, and swiped a talon down her slit, applying some experimental pressure at her entrance. She didn’t want to move too quickly, or make Sara uncomfortable, or somehow ruin it, or–  
  
“God, _fuck_ ,” groaned Ryder, canting her hips _hard_ . “Nyx– ah, _mmh_ – _fuck me_ .”     
  
A flutter of the mandibles, and dip in her subharmonics. “That an order, _ma’am_ ?”  
  
Sara cried out, and tipped her head back– so she _did_ get off from titles. Useful, useful information; good for teasing. Vetra wasn’t quite expecting her to dig her nails into the nape of her neck _hard_ , though, nor for the following words to come out more a growl than anything else.     
  
“Absolutely,” said Sara, meeting her gaze, “so, unless you want me to _punish_ you for _insubordination_ …”    
  
Well!  
  
Vetra pressed in a single finger, initially, all the way to the knuckle. She let it sit there unmoving for a moment, despite Sara’s evident frustration at the lack of sensation, but– when she was satisfied with the Pathfinder’s squirming– crooked it _just right_ , pressing against the spongy part of her inner walls. She groaned, low and loud, and Vetra’s mouth went back to her clit, tongue working it to and fro while her talon began to move slowly, pulling out almost entirely before surging back in.  
  
It was just a starting pace, though. The thrusting of her hand became faster, and more rhythmic, and the noises from inside her were obscene– so much so that each one sent a spike of heat to Vetra’s core. She added another after a long moment, feeling Sara’s entrance stretch around the welcome intrusion, relishing in the sound of the wanton cries of her name that could no doubt be heard from the medbay. It sounded good in her mouth, she thought. She’d like to hear it more often, in that _specific_ tone.          
  
“I– fuck, _Vetra_ ,” pleaded Sara, canting her hips roughly against the turian’s hand. Her hands had begun trailing down her back, nails sliding into the gaps between her plates and _dragging_ . “ _H-harder_ .”    
  
Vetra clicked her tongue. “Uh-uh. What’s the magic word, _Pathfinder_ ?”  
  
To punctuate her point, she stilled her fingers mid-thrust, inside of her. She’d been right– Sara was soft, and wet, and tight, and _intoxicating_ . Perfect. The human groaned from the lack of friction.  
  
“God fuckin’ damn you, Nyx,” she hissed, letting her head fall back onto the bed with a thump. “ _Please_ .”  
  
“Say it, Sara.”  
  
The Pathfinder heaved out a shuddering sigh, but relented, nonetheless. “Fucking– _please_ , Vetra, fuck me harder. Rougher. Make me _scream._ ”      
  
Vetra rumbled, and began to thrust again, picking up the pace significantly. She had to be careful that her talons didn’t catch on Sara’s flesh, but they were filed– even if they did, it wouldn’t be too painful. Maybe she’d be into it. The Pathfinder arched beneath her, and the turian could feel her walls beginning to shudder and clamp around her fingers, and her moans were becoming staccato and uneven. Spirits, it sounded _good_ – their gracious leader beneath her, so wrecked that even her moans were stuttered. Vetra reached beneath Ryder’s knee with her free hand, and hoisted her leg over her shoulder, to allow her deeper access. The other followed of her own volition, so she assumed the angle was good.  
  
Her tongue returned to Sara’s clit, and that was it. An almighty cry of Vetra’s name tore from the Pathfinder’s throat, breathless and loud and desperate, and her walls clamped hard around her fingers, hips and thighs aquiver and chest heaving. She drew on her climax for as long as she could, feeling her arousal running down her hand and chin, and withdrew from her clit to swipe up as much as she could. When Sara had stilled, breasts heaving and breathing heavy, Vetra slid her fingers out of her and licked them clean, kissing a trail up her chest– capturing one of her breasts momentarily– before pressing her mouth to her lips. Their tongues entwined, and Sara could no doubt taste herself; the thought sent a spike of arousal deep within Vetra’s stomach, and she rubbed her thighs together.  
  
Ryder was inactive for only a moment, taking a few heavy breaths before planting her hands on Vetra’s shoulders and _pushing_ , rolling the two so their positions were reversed. The turian blinked, taken aback, and Sara only grinned down at her, trailing a finger down between her chest plates. The rasp of her nail against the sensitive skin drew a moan from her, and a slight, nearly imperceptible buck of the hips. Miss Recon Specialist noticed, though.  
  
“Mmm,” she hummed, running her hands down to peel the lower half of Vetra’s suit off. The legs came off easier than the torso, so she only needed a little bit of assistance. “It’s unfair if I don’t return the favour.”  
  
Oh. _Oh_ .      
  
As she’d suspected, her plates had shifted entirely, exposing her core to Sara’s wandering touch. Human fingers were neither as long nor thick as turians’, but their tongues? Things of dreams– _if_ the vids were to be trusted.  
  
Vetra groaned, trying to restrain herself from bucking her hips as Sara trailed a gentle line across her slit, dipping in to press against her clit– her touch was light; teasing. She had the distinct feeling that Ryder was trying to get her to beg. She wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t humiliate herself. She wouldn’t–  
  
“ _Spirits,_ Sara, _please_ .”  
  
–well, maybe she would. No shame in asking for it.  
  
The Pathfinder grinned, and lowered her mouth to Vetra’s core, tracing a line up with her tongue and circling her clit once, twice, thrice. She shuddered, and fisted a hand in the human’s hair, tugging rougher than she had intended. What she had expected to be an incredulous noise, however, turned out to be a breathy moan, against her sweet spot– the vibration the hum made had Vetra canting her hips in a decidedly uncharacteristic manner. Sara pressed her tongue against her entrance, letting it slip up inside for a moment before withdrawing and using her fingers instead, inserting both her index and middle finger simultaneously.  
  
There was a stretch, but it was nowhere near unpleasant. In fact, it drew a series of deep, rumbling moans from her, and she was sure that if she tried to speak, the only word that would escape her would be ‘ _fuck_ ’. Likely repeated– many times.  
  
Ryder moved her tongue back to Vetra’s clit, circling in quick, staccato movements, and the sensation was almost too much for her– _fuck,_ that felt good. Her tongue, her fingers, her breathy laughter _right there_ against her core whenever she made a noise she liked, it was all too good, too perfect. And hell– Vetra wanted more of it.  
  
Sara lifted Vetra’s legs by the spurs, but instead of hitching them on her shoulders– which would have been uncomfortable, considering– she pushed them _back_ , holding her knees to her stomach with a firm hand. Oh– _that_ was a good angle. Sara added a third finger, and her movements began to brush her sweet spot. The turian cried out, subharmonics simultaneously low and high and everywhere and _wrecked_ , and _fuck_ , this woman would be the death of her.  
  
Vetra could feel her climax beginning to build, quickened by the quick, rhythmic strokes of Sara’s tongue over her clit, and the building speed of the surge of her fingers, hitting the spot that had her seeing _stars_ . Her voice had become a steady, low rumble, never quite ceasing, and simply picking up into a cry or a moan whenever Ryder did something she _really_ liked. Like crooking her fingers to hook against her in that _perfect_ way that nobody else had ever seemed to manage, or speeding up the movement of her mouth when she could feel her thighs beginning to quiver against her head.  
  
Her hands bunched into Sara’s hair and pulled, eliciting a low groan from the Pathfinder, right against her clit. Her talons dug into her scalp, and she ground her hips up into the human’s mouth, seeking more and more friction. “Sara– _Spirits_ , I’m close, I– _uhn_ , _fuck_ !”              
  
Sara sped up both movements, and the heat of her climax set upon her like some kind of hungry beast. Vetra’s hips canted roughly into her machinations, and her head tipped back with a thud, a loud, desperate sound leaving her, before she recited the Pathfinder’s name like a scripture, over and over, hands threaded in her hair to press her as close as she could, body wracked by violent shudders.  
  
She hadn’t come like that in a long time– _ever_ , even.  
  
Sara clambered up– still atop her– to press a long, lingering, heavy kiss to Vetra’s mouth, pausing only to catch her breath and press their foreheads together. The turian’s hand had untangled itself from her hair, and now traced lazy lines down her spine, the other resting at her hip in an _almost_ dangerous way– hell, if Sara wanted to go again, Vetra was game, but… the look she was giving her, so open and warm and full of _something_ , gave her pause. There was a sadness there, too, and it filled her with– _fear_ . The fear of rejection.  
  
The Pathfinder pressed another kiss to her lips, and pressed a hand to the side of her face– Vetra’s mandibles fluttered. It was an affectionate gesture, and one that inspired a much different kind of warmth in her.  
  
“Sara, I–”  
  
Ryder cut her off. “Vetra, I just– I need to know something. This… I don’t want this to be a one time thing, yeah? I don’t want it to be something that’ll create a divide between us, that’ll make shit awkward, y’know? That’s the opposite of what I want. Because– well, I mean, I want to do this again. That is, if you wouldn’t mind, or– uh– if you want to, or...”  
  
“Sara,” said Vetra, fondly, raising a hand to brush away the stray curls that had fallen to frame her face. “I like you. A lot. So I just– if it’s a casual thing you want–”  
  
“It’s not.”  
  
_Oh_ .  
  
“You mean…”  
  
“Yeah, Vetra,” said Sara, after a moment’s silence. Her gaze was averted. “I like you a lot more than I should. And frankly, I don’t care. But this? I couldn’t do _this_ as a casual thing, you just– you mean too much to me. I’m not interested in a friends-with-benefits type thing, I want this to be… _real._ More.”     
  
Vetra was quiet for a long, tense moment, before she grasped Ryder’s chin gently, and tilted her head to meet her eyes. Sara looked tense, and uncomfortable– as if she feared rejection just as much as she did.  
  
“Yeah,” was all the turian said, in the end, pressing her forehead to Sara’s. “Yeah, I want that too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading !!  
> if you have any criticisms, compliments, or if you just want to tell me about your day, feel free to comment or hmu at srydcr.tumblr.com <3
> 
> love you guys !


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